Halfway To Anywhere
by queenrach
Summary: Christian & Syed - an alternative story. It's Jan 2010 and Syed has been hiding his feelings for Christian for seven long months now, but when the Masoods and the Beales go on holiday together, will it finally prove to be too much?
1. Chapter 1

**Halfway to Anywhere**

**A/N: This is my first foray into the world of Chryed fic, and it's super-intimidating writing about established characters that people already know and love, so I hope everyone likes my interpretation. I wanted to have a play around with how they first got together so I wrote this. Imagine if Amira was never on the scene and Syed had resisted his feelings for seven long months...**

**The story is from Syed's POV. I'm not sure if I want to have a go at writing Christian's POV yet, but I might explore that somewhere down the line. **

**I have changed some details of them and their histories as you will see throughout, so read it with an open mind, but a lot of the fic is kept true to the on-screen story – for example, both Syed and Christian live in Walford and work at the Masala Queen together. **

**The title of this fic is inspired by the song Anywhere by Evanescence, a song which suits Chryed perfectly.**

**This first chapter sets up some of the important details for the story and gives you a glimpse into Syed's head before we get into the action, so I'm sorry if it seems a bit dull, but please stick with it, it gets better! (I think...)**

**Reviews are most welcome, good or critical!**

**Special thanks go to Jenn and whoyouarexo, who were kind enough to give me their feedback on the story and the confidence to post it, and to Gem for being my beta!**

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><p><strong>January 2010<br>**

"I need a holiday", Mum announced out of the blue, shattering the comfortable silence that had previously occupied the living room.

She was sat at the table, her back to me and Tamwar, browsing on the laptop. I looked at Tam, sat next to me on the sofa reading a book, and we both rolled our eyes, keeping quiet. I'd only been back at home properly for a few months, but I'd heard this declaration from Mum numerous times already, said in times of stress but with no action behind it.

I leaned over to whisper to Tam. "When was the last time you actually_ went_ on holiday?"

"We went to Newquay a couple of summers ago", he responded. "Mum moaned about the weather, the smell, the people, the cost of everything, the cleanliness of the hotel, you name it. We were meant to stay there for 10 days but came home after a week. Worst holiday ever."

"What are you two muttering about?" Mum barked from across the room. "I'm serious! I've just found a log cabin in Scotland with cheap last-minute rates for February, it sleeps 10. I wonder if the Beales would like to join us. They raved about how beautiful Scotland was when they went."

"Er, Mum, aren't you kind of forgetting something?" I said teasingly, half-laughing at her. "Like, the business that you and the Beales jointly own? We can't all go on holiday together, who would look after Masala Queen?"

Mum tutted. "Oh, February's always a quiet month in the catering industry Syed. After the hectic run-up to Christmas and New Year the business dies a death until about March-time. Had you not already noticed? We have enough staff to look after Masala Queen, and Ian's businesses all tick over smoothly without his presence these days. It's only for four nights anyway, Monday to Friday."

"Who would go on holiday from a Monday to a Friday?" Tamwar piped up, looking unimpressed.

"People looking for cheap getaways, that's who!" Mum retorted sharply. "When you have a family of your own then you'll have to learn to look after your money Tamwar, it doesn't look after itself! Plus this place is a bargain for what it offers; it looks surprisingly modern and spacious from the pictures."

"Mum, are you sure you want to go on holiday with the _Beales_?" I asked incredulously.

"What's wrong with the Beales?" Mum snapped. "Jane is a lovely woman. Bobby, Peter and Lucy are wonderful children." I raised a doubtful eyebrow at that but she continued: "And Ian... eh, well, Ian's just Ian isn't he? Tamwar come here and look at the pictures."

Tam sighed and reluctantly pulled himself up off the sofa. "So who are these 10 people going to be then?"

"Well, I was thinking us four, Jane and Ian, Lucy and Peter, Bobby and Christian. Shabnam sounded very busy last time I spoke to her so I doubt she'll be able to make it; she said the earliest she can visit is April. But that's 10 exactly, see, how perfect! There are four double bedrooms and two singles..."

At the mention of Christian's name, Mum's voice had faded into nothing more than distant background noise. My heart had starting thumping involuntarily, and without intending to I drifted into a daydream.

The effect Christian Clarke had on me was ridiculous. Ever since I first laid eyes on him, back in May last year, even if he wasn't in my presence just the mere thought or mention of him made my heart flip-flop in my chest. There were no signs of this response disappearing either. In fact, the more I tried to control it, the stronger it became.

Ever since that first meeting, the moment our eyes first met, the handshake, the introduction, my weak joke... I'd never been taken over so powerfully by my own feelings. The last seven months had been an emotional and mental turmoil for me. Falling in love for the first time was meant to be a joyous, exciting experience, but falling in love with a _man, _a man I worked with? It was possibly the worst thing to have ever happened to me. It went against everything I'd been taught, everything I believed in as a devout Muslim man. It was _haraam_ – strictly forbidden.

Day after day I prayed for Allah's help to erase my feelings, to make life more manageable, to assist me in meeting a nice Muslim girl who'd distract me from Christian. But nothing changed, it never became any easier.

Christian had no idea, or at least I thought he didn't. I exhausted myself day in day out trying to hide it, constantly wearing my cleverly designed mask of indifference and casualness.

However there were times when I wondered how Christian could possibly still be ignorant to my feelings. There were days where I was just too emotionally exhausted to pretend, and the mask would slip, leaving me in danger of being caught out. There were certain moments where it felt as if my true feelings may as well be written all over my forehead in thick black marker pen, or displayed in a flashing neon sign above my head.

It was the moments where he brushed against me without realising and I had to hold my breath to keep myself from involuntarily gasping.

It was the moments where he flashed his cheeky grin at me, making my heart melt inside.

It was the moments at work where Mum would start off on one of her rants and he would throw me playful sideways glances, making my legs quake beneath me.

It was the moments where something trivial amused him and he'd chuckle, the timbre of it arousing salacious desires in me.

There were even whole days where I couldn't look him properly in the eye because I knew that the look of lust in my eyes would have betrayed me in an instant.

Even in an alternate universe, where my faith and beliefs didn't stand in my way, I knew that he'd never be interested in me. Why would he? We were polar opposites. He was toned and muscular, I was lean, a pure weed in direct comparison. He was cheeky and charming. I was shy and awkward, around him anyway. He was quick-witted and jovial. I had my moments, but when I was anywhere near him I clammed up.

I **knew **he thought I was a bore – and a _straight_ bore at that!

He wasn't shy in talking about his love of the gay scene, boasting of a new man every Saturday night. I knew this fact because every Monday morning at work I had to stand and listen to the tales of his weekend, trying to conceal the look of jealousy and betrayal on my face. I knew how utterly stupid it was of me to even feel that way. Why was I jealous? I certainly had no reason to feel betrayed. Christian was not mine. He never had been, and never would be. There was not a chance on this earth that he felt anything for me.

I supposed I should have been grateful for that fact - it made resisting him far easier when I knew he was never going to make a move on me. But unrequited love was humiliating, however I dressed it up, and the self-loathing I put myself through as a result of my feelings was constant and painful.

There was a point, around November last year, where I felt as though it was all becoming too much for me to handle. I had seriously considered moving away, finding a new job, getting far away from the source of my turmoil.

Unfortunately Christian was like a drug, the strangest, most powerful drug known to man. However awful I felt around him as I tried to conceal my feelings, and however difficult and heart-wrenching the whole thing was, the thought of _not_ seeing him made a part of me die inside. It was a part that had only awakened when I first laid eyes on him, and a part that I couldn't physically imagine living without now.

So I'd inadvertently managed to put a positive spin on my own heartache and misery. However difficult the situation may have seemed, it would have been even more difficult were I to cut Christian out of my life now. So every day I chose to suffer, safe in the knowledge that I was making the best of a bad situation.

That was how my life had been for the past seven long months, and how it would have to be until the day where my prayers to Allah were finally answered, and he reversed my homosexual desires. I had faith that this would happen. Everyone had to endure tests in their life, and this was mine. I would eventually meet the woman of my dreams and start a family of my own, pleasing my dear mother, who grew ever wearier the longer I remained single.

"... massive kitchen, gorgeous lounge area, and look at the views! Pass me the phone and I'll call Jane." Mum's voice babbling away to Tamwar grew louder as it filtered back into my consciousness and I realised I had done it yet again. I had allowed thoughts of Christian Clarke to take over my head. I mentally kicked myself. Today was certainly one of my weaker days.

"Syed?" Mum was calling me over to the laptop now. I sighed and stood up, pushing all thoughts of Christian to the back of my mind. For now anyway...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who left lovely reviews on my last chapter, so pleased that you're enjoying the story. It's really spurred me on to keep writing!  
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**Hope you enjoy Chapter Two, thanks go to Gem again for being my beta.**

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><p>"Right! Are we all ready?" Mum turned and asked with a big grin on her face. It was too big. Her cheeks were clearly aching from the falsity of it.<p>

"Yes", I and Tam replied unenthusiastically in unison. We were both sat in the back of the car. The suitcases were packed and in the boot. Dad was in the driver's seat. Somehow, we'd made it this far. We were actually going on holiday!

I was filled with dread when I thought about the five days ahead of me, thanks to Tamwar who had recently taken great delight in telling me horror stories of Masood family holidays gone by. Unfortunately we had absolutely no reason to get out of it. Despite my numerous offers to stay in Walford and take care of the business, Mum assured me that the rest of the staff would be able to manage without us. Tamwar was currently on a gap year before university and also working at Masala Queen, meaning he had no excuses either.

We had both vowed to get through the holiday together and make it as enjoyable as possible. That basically meant avoiding Mum's bad moods, Dad's sporadic rages and Ian's pig-headedness, amongst other things. Simple. For Tamwar anyway...

For me, enjoying this holiday was not going to be that simple. On top of everything else I also had to contend with the concern of being around Christian for the next five days, which filled me with both joy and despair in confusing measures. Despair won out, just. Life as it currently stood was hard and exhausting enough without spending five full days trying to keep the mask in place. I was already panicking. Had I overestimated my abilities to cope?

I sighed unintentionally, and Dad turned round from the front seat to give me a strange, warning look – the kind of look that said, 'you act like you're looking forward to this holiday or else!' For a moment I felt 10 years old again.

Peter, Lucy and Bobby Beale had all managed to get out of the holiday, saved by their step- grandparents who had recently moved back to the UK from Florida and invited the three of them to stay for a few days. They had jumped at the chance to get away from their parents, and Jane and Ian were just as keen on the idea of a 'grown-up' break away from the kids, so it was a win-win situation for them.

As for Christian, he seemed almost _too_ excited for this holiday, based on the fact that it was all he'd been talking about for the past couple of weeks at work. I was convinced it was just an attempt to pacify my mother, rather than genuine delight for a trip away with the Masood family.

That was exactly the kind of man he was, always looking to please everyone else, always so enthusiastic even with no real reason to be. He was constantly upbeat, looking for the good in everything. I would have found it utterly infuriating if I didn't absolutely adore him for it. His positive outlook was undeniably infectious, and thankfully the holiday had given him something other than his latest conquests to ramble about at work. His husky voice was like a melody in my head, and so I'd mostly allowed him to carry recent conversations, letting his words wash over me.

Unfortunately the past two weeks had been more mentally exhausting than normal. I'd spent a lot of time with him at the unit, both of us trying to get everything organized so we could all go away. I'd worn myself out trying to pretend that our long conversations were nothing more than idle chatter, when in reality I was absorbing every single word that was exchanged throughout every single day. It gave me something to dwell on and overanalyse when I was alone...

"Syed? Syed!" I was suddenly jolted back to reality - sat in the back seat of the family car, parked on the side of the road - at the sound of my father's voice. I'd let Christian take over my head yet again. "Wakey wakey! You've got my sat nav in your bag."

"Oh, sorry, yes I do", I said, embarrassed at being caught daydreaming. I passed it over and away we went. Tamwar shot me a strange, concerned look. I panicked as he opened his mouth. What was he thinking?

"Are you alright Syed? You looked a bit miserable there."

I smiled back at Tamwar a bit too widely.

"No, not miserable! I'm a bit sleepy though, maybe that's what it was." I folded up my jumper, put it between my head and the car window, and closed my eyes so that I could get lost in my thoughts again without being disturbed. That was close.

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><p>It was dark when we finally pulled up outside what would be our home for the next five days. My heart did its little nervous dance when I spotted Christian's car parked outside, next to Jane and Ian's. What the hell was I doing here? Was I some sort of sick masochist, intent on putting myself through days of torture? If Christian was my drug of choice then I was on a one-way path to overdosing, I just knew it. I wanted to jump out of the car and run like the wind in the opposite direction whilst I still could. Perfectly rational thoughts...<p>

It was at that precise moment that I spotted Christian, peeking at us through the curtains of what was presumably the lounge - a room at the front of the cabin with huge floor-to-ceiling windows. I was suddenly torn between my desire to run far, far away and my urge to run straight into his arms. I landed somewhere in the middle. I managed to step out of the car along with the others and gave him a smile and a wave. He simply grinned back and disappeared, reappearing in a matter of seconds at the front door. He walked towards the car, clad in a stunning navy blue t-shirt and jeans.

"Hello everyone!" he said, still grinning like a big kid. "Zainab, Masood. Good journey I hope? Wasn't the drive up here stunning! Let me help you with your bags."

In my head I knew that his last sentence was a general one, addressed to all four of us, but before I realised it I'd found myself stammering.

"Uh yeah, t-t-that would be great, thanks Christian".

He gave me a cheeky look and bumped my shoulder with his. My stuttering heartbeat went into overdrive at the split second of physical contact.

"Well I knew I'd have to help _you_ Syed, what with those puny arms of yours!"

"Hey!" I choked out mock-indignantly, as the other three members of my family laughed along with him. "On second thoughts, just forget it..." I said haughtily, reaching into the boot for my own suitcase just as he did. Our hands brushed, and I before I'd even realised what I was doing my reflexes kicked in. I whipped my hand away like it had been scorched.

He raised his eyebrow at me as he pulled my suitcase out of the boot with ease. I was suddenly grateful for the dim light of the evening. I could feel my cheeks burning and prayed that their glow wasn't visible. What happened to me being cool and calm?

"No need to fight over it!" he joked light-heartedly as he carried it towards the front door. I smiled weakly as I watched him walk away from me; mustering up all my effort to keep my eyes firmly fixed on the back of his broad shoulders rather than... well, further south. Three members of my family were looking at me, after all.

Yep, this was definitely going to be five days of pure torture.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks again for the lovely reviews! Hope you enjoy Chapter Three.**

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><p>The accommodation was beautiful; there was no doubt about that. It was set in a remote location, only the occasional passing car serving as a reminder that other forms of human life existed. According to the Beales - who had set off early enough to enjoy them in daylight - the views were stunning. For now, on this Monday evening, our surroundings were covered in a blanket of dusk; the whole experience still felt a million miles away from drab, dreary Walford though.<p>

The interior of the cabin was surprisingly impressive too. Somehow it managed to feel brand new, but also cosy and lived-in. The lounge area was vast, comprising of five sofas, a wall-mounted television complete with a games console, a huge bookcase and a massive fluffy rug covering the bare wooden floors. There was a dining area tucked in the corner, and the kitchen was surprisingly spacious, containing all of the mod-cons whilst retaining that quaint feel.

There were four double bedrooms - all of which were en-suite - two single rooms and a spacious shared bathroom. Tamwar had excitedly bagged one of the single rooms, a large loft conversion accessible by a set of stairs in the corner of the living room. Mum and Dad had graciously allowed Jane and Ian to have the master bedroom, which was huge and beautifully furnished. They selected for themselves the second-largest bedroom, which apparently offered the best views.

Christian and I had had a playful argument over the last two. I joked with him that the bigger man should have the bigger room, and eventually, after a bit of mock-protest, he conceded. I only hoped and prayed that my casual, light-hearted mask had remained in place during the whole exchange.

I'd felt a stab deep within my heart as I quipped, "You'll need the extra room anyway, in case you decide to pick a Scottish man up!"

"Well I do love a man in a kilt... you know me far too well Syed!" he'd replied with a cheeky wink.

Perhaps that was true. I wished it wasn't though; it hurt me deep inside trying to joke about such things so lightly. I did it to myself all too frequently, never learning my lesson. Christian probably thought I had an unusual interest in his love life from the frequency I brought it into conversation. He would be right of course, but for reasons he would never have suspected. Thankfully he'd never pulled me up on it - no doubt because he loved an excuse to talk about it.

I often pondered why I tortured myself in such ways, inciting Christian to talk about his love life, and expending myself to conceal my jealousy and hurt as a result. I figured it must have been my method of testing to see if my feelings for him had miraculously vanished. Well, they certainly hadn't yet; the ache in my heart confirmed that.

I sighed and got up from my bed, where I'd lain for the last 20 minutes deep in my own thoughts. I could hear chatter and laughter coming from the direction of the lounge and decided to go through and show my face.

Everyone was sat around relaxing with the exception of Tamwar, who I presumed was up in his loft room. Jane, Ian and Christian had glasses of white wine, Mum was drinking tea and Dad had a glass of orange juice. The TV was on, but not being watched; only serving to provide background noise.

"Syed!" Jane exclaimed when she spotted me. "Grab yourself a drink from the kitchen; we brought a few supplies with us. We're just swapping funny Masala Queen stories!"

"Thanks Jane", I said gratefully, and went through to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of orange juice. I spotted that the giant fridge had an ice machine in the door, and I spent a couple of minutes trying to get it to work. After mopping up the ice-cube pool I'd made on the kitchen floor in my clumsy attempts, I went back through to the lounge.

Tamwar had resurfaced whilst I was in the kitchen and was sprawled full-length on one of the sofas. Ian and my father had adopted similar positions, spread out across separate sofas. Jane and my mother were sat together on another, which left me one seat – next to Christian.

He was only taking up the right-hand side of his sofa but his left arm, complete with wine glass in hand, was slung lazily across the back of it. The thought of sitting cosily next to Christian, with his arm practically around my shoulders, sent me into spasms of panic for a split second, and I contemplated plonking myself down in the middle of the fluffy rug instead, before realising that would look extremely conspicuous.

I hesitated briefly and psyched myself up. I was fairly confident in my abilities to sit down and act like our close proximity was nothing, all the time attempting to hide the fact that my heart was pounding. It would be a test, but I was used to those. I mentally slotted my mask into place and went over to join him.

My face _may_ have said relaxed, but my body was betraying me; I could feel the clamminess on my palms, my breathing was erratic and my heart was fluttering away in my chest. I perched on the very edge of the seat, terrified to relax further backwards in case I leaned into his outstretched arm by accident. Even contemplating the effect that might have on me made me come over a bit strange – I knew it would have felt far too intimate to ignore. I didn't want to find out the limits of my strength with an audience of five surrounding.

Exhaling – I hadn't realised I'd been holding my breath – I took a tentative sip of my drink. I was fine. I almost burst out laughing at the ridiculous inner dialogue I'd just been through in the space of five seconds.

Christian's voice sounded on my right hand side.

"Syed, can you lean back a bit? I was just in the middle of telling your Mum something!"

As he spoke, he used his free hand against my chest to try and gently push me back against the sofa - and into his outstretched arm - so I wasn't blocking his view.

In that split-second I realised I'd relaxed far too soon.

My worst fears about close bodily contact with Christian were confirmed. I was already sat too close for comfort, but the feel of his warm, strong hand on my chest made my heart splutter into overdrive as if he were some sort of human defibrillator. It started thumping away; right under his hand, where I had no doubt he could feel it. I took a sharp, shocked breath and felt the blood flood to my face. I shot a look at him, causing our eyes to lock for a silent, powerful moment. I wasn't sure what I saw in his eyes, but I knewwhat he would see in mine – a combination of total horror and unadulterated lust.

My cool, calm composure was shot to pieces; no mask could save me now. I leapt up off the sofa in a blind panic, pushing against his hand, still clutching my glass.

"Just realized I left something in the kitchen! Back in a sec." The words got stuck in my throat but _somehow_ I managed to choke them out as I dashed to the kitchen with my head ducked down, praying my wobbly legs wouldn't cave underneath me.

Once I'd made it to the kitchen I closed the door behind me and slumped against it, closing my eyes wearily, the sound of my heart still thudding in my ears.

The charade was over. The game was up. I knew my cover had just been completely and utterly blown in the space of a few seconds. I had no hope that the six people in the other room were all completely oblivious to what had just happened. Christian had touched me completely innocently, caught me off-guard, and I'd freaked out.

He was naturally a touchy-feely kind of person, and he thought nothing of spontaneous hugs and kisses, grabbing peoples' hands and throwing his arm around peoples' shoulders. I had already guessed a long time ago that physical contact from him would affect me in a way it shouldn't – the occasional brushes and nudges against him proved that - so I preferred to keep a safe distance. Now, as I stood dejectedly in the kitchen, I knew exactly why.

The last few months of pretence ran through my head. All that effort, all that resistance, all that pain... for nothing. What were Mum and Dad thinking right now? Their Muslim son was attracted to a man, the shame of it! I felt tears pricking at my eyes. I had failed myself; I had failed Allah's test. Despite giving it everything I physically had within me to contain my unnatural feelings, despite spending every moment of the last few months working against them - squashing them down, praying for them to go away, begging even - it hadn't been enough.

Seven long, exhausting months spent gradually rebuilding their trust in me - demolished in an instant.

As I stood picturing my parents' disappointed and angry faces I felt nothing but disgust at myself.

I realised I'd been stood in the kitchen far too long; it was time to face the music. I took a big gulp of orange juice to drown the lump in my throat, and wiped the frustrated, angry tears from my eyes. Mustering up every ounce of courage and dignity I had left within me, I lifted my head, took a deep breath and opened the kitchen door, prepared to be greeted by six pairs of eyes.

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><p><strong>AN: Eeek! So what do you think... has Syed been sussed out, or is he overthinking matters like always? And what is Christian thinking? Chapter Four will reveal all...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: As always, thanks for the reviews, they really motivate me! Glad you're all enjoying this so far, please keep giving me your feedback.**

**Thanks again to Gem for beta-ing the story for me.**

**Just a reminder - this chapter, as with the others, is from Syed's POV :)**

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><p>The scene that greeted me when I re-opened the kitchen door was so far away from what I'd built up in my own head. It felt like a surreal dream.<p>

Everything was just as I'd left it two minutes previously. Jane and Mum were still gossiping away together, Ian and Dad were talking between themselves, and Tamwar was now laid on the rug flicking through a TV listings magazine. No-one acknowledged my swift exit. In fact, no-one was so much as looking in my direction when I opened the door.

No-one... except Christian.

He was like a magnet; I couldn't help but look in his direction, despite being utterly petrified of what I might see. I knew that if there was any one person in the room with any kind of suspicions then it would be him.

I caught his eyes for a moment as I stood in the doorway. He was staring at me, and I felt the blood rush to my face again. He_ knew _something was up. There was a funny expression in his emerald eyes, one I was completely unfamiliar with. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. He looked... embarrassed? Apologetic? _Upset?_ Oh no. I was dying to take another look but I couldn't bring myself to. I walked over and sat down where Tamwar had been previously, directly across from Christian, and took a nonchalant swig of my juice, looking anywhere but Christian's way. I could still feel his glare across the room, boring into me.

"What did you forget?" Dad asked, breaking off his conversation with Ian to swivel round and look at me.

I was confused by the seemingly random question. "What do you mean - forget what?"

"Your memory is shocking! A minute ago, you went to get something from the kitchen. What did you forget?" Dad continued. "I was hoping you'd come back with some snacks!"

It suddenly clicked in my head. He was referring to my mumbled excuse that had come from out of nowhere before I'd fled to the kitchen.

"Oh_, that_! Sorry, I don't know where my head is today." I forced a laugh out, trying to buy time while I mustered up an excuse. A sudden flash of inspiration hit me and I reached into my pocket.

"I left my phone sitting out on the worktop, that's all. Expecting a text." I smiled weakly at Dad.

"Oh _really_?" he said interestedly, suddenly sitting up. "From a girl, by any chance? The speed with which you bolted to that kitchen was unreal!"

Dad's joke had just unwittingly provided me with the perfect cover-up story. If anyone was even remotely close to figuring out the reason behind my actions earlier - especially Christian - this was my chance to throw them all completely off the scent.

"Maaaaaybe", I lied, trying to pull off a coy look.

I heard my mum squeal and she broke off her own conversation with Jane to interrupt mine with Dad – exactly what I'd hoped for.

"A _girl_, Syed? Tell us everything!" Mum said with a genuine beam on her face. A tiny spasm of panic shot through me. I hated lying. What had I just got myself into?

"Oh it's nothing really. Just a girl I used to work with in Leeds passed my number onto a friend of hers. It's _very _early days yet", I stressed, lying through my teeth.

I could still feel Christian's eyes piercing into me from across the room as I spoke; it was an uncomfortable sensation.

"Well, what is she like? Muslim? Good family? Good morals? Attractive?" Mum couldn't hide the glee in her voice.

"Yes, yes, yes and yes Mum", I said, feigning self-conciousness and awkwardness. I dipped my head. "Please can we talk about something else now?"

"Oh, look at my boy getting all embarrassed!" Mum said to Jane, the two of them chuckling together. I allowed myself to relax again. My cover story had been bought with no questions. I couldn't believe my good fortune.

I took this moment to steal a look at Christian, who was _still _staring at me. He had remained completely silent throughout the whole exchange. Our eyes met again; he still had the same confusing expression on his face. His eyes were dark, the lines around them seemed prominent, and his brow was furrowed, like he was puzzled, or frowning. Frowning - at _me_?

Suddenly he stood up.

"Please excuse my rudeness guys, but this old man needs his beauty sleep", he joked, flashing his trademark cheeky grin. He went over to give Jane a hug and kiss on the cheek, and made a great show of kissing my mother's hand in a regal manner. Tam got a friendly punch on the shoulder.

As he made his way around the room, a sudden thought popped into my head and I started to panic. What if he was planning on giving me a hug goodnight? Even a handshake would be disastrous – my sweaty palm and trembling hand would give the game away. Without adequate time to prepare, I fumbled for excuses in my head, ready to jump up and dash away to the kitchen again if he moved closer.

There was no reason to worry. When it came to me, Ian, and my father, he paused for a split-second before giving us all a general wave and turning on his heel.

"Goodnight all, sweet dreams!" he said in the direction of the room.

"Goodnight", everyone chorused in response.

In the split-second before he'd turned, I'd purposely tried to catch his eye again. He looked straight past me, avoiding my gaze. _Why?_

In the unfortunate event that he'd guessed the awful truth about my weakness, was he offended? Embarrassed? Horrified?

I was utterly confused, and my brain was exhausted from the events of the evening. Bed seemed like a very good plan. I bid everyone goodnight and headed to my room.

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><p>I was in my pyjamas, cleaning my teeth in the en-suite bathroom when I heard a tap at the bedroom door.<p>

My immediate thought was that it was Tamwar, probably coming to see if I wanted to stay up and chat, or watch TV in his room together. Then I realised it was almost definitely going to be my mother, wanting more details about my fictional lady friend. I groaned inwardly. Mum was like a dog with a bone when she heard information like this, and she wouldn't rest until she knew every last detail. My vagueness earlier would have been torturing her. She probably wanted a 'text-by-text' account of the story so far. _Great_. More lies.

"Just a minute Mum!" I tried to shout through a mouthful of toothpaste. I spat and quickly rinsed, and went to open the door.

Christian was on the other side.

With no warning to prepare myself and put my guard in place, I felt completely exposed, and I ducked my head down quickly so I didn't meet his gaze. If he'd caught even a glimpse of the excitement in my eyes when I saw him stood there then I'd failed - _again_.

"Can I come in for a sec?" he asked, slightly awkwardly.

Still not looking at him, I nodded – I didn't trust myself to open my mouth for fear of what noise would come out – and opened the door, gesturing for him to step in. I closed the door with my back to him, taking the opportunity to say a quick prayer to Allah.

I was suddenly engulfed by a fear of the unknown – why was Christian visiting me in my room?

"Nice pyjamas", he couldn't resist teasing, gesturing at my checked flannel affair.

I blushed slightly. "Mum's gift before we came here. They're _actually _quite comfy."

"They look it", agreed Christian, with that infuriatingly unreadable expression all over his face. He plopped himself down on the edge of my bed and exhaled loudly.

I tried not to dwell on the fact that Christian Clarke was sat on my bed, wearing only a tightly-tied black dressing gown. I was definitely not prepared for a moment like this. It felt bizarre, but good. I'd be lying if I said I'd never daydreamed about it, but now it was actually happening, and I suddenly realised I didn't have a clue what he doing here.

I automatically started casting my mind to random sexless things as a distraction from the gorgeous man in my bedroom:

_...the moment as a six-year-old when I fell in a stagnant pond on holiday... that time I accidentally killed a school friend's goldfish when I was nine_... they were just a couple of many well-rehearsed scenes that I used to fill my head whenever I needed a distraction. It was my coping mechanism. Those scenes were all lined up and ready to play in my head at any given moment.

Christian looked oddly dejected sat in front of me - uncharacteristically vulnerable. All of his usual bravado seemed to be missing. I was completely perplexed. He opened his mouth, and I genuinely had no idea what he was about to say.

"Sy..." he paused, looking down at the floor. My heart stopped. Had he just called me _Sy?_

"I've been noticing something for a while now."

As soon as he uttered those words, everything clicked in my head.

_Oh no. Nononono_. My heart started up again, racing in my chest, and the moisture suddenly vanished from my mouth. I couldn't open it to respond.

He'd sussed me out. He knew, he'd guessed...

"Do I make you... uncomfortable?" he continued.

I paused for what felt like whole minutes, tasting panic at the back of my throat, searching for the right words to say. How would I even _begin_ to explain this whole sorry mess? Did I even _want _to explain? Where were my careful excuses, my well-rehearsed lies?

But he hadn't finished yet.

"Look, I know Zainab – sorry, your mother – has an issue with the way I talk and act sometimes. My sexuality makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't like me to be 'too gay' in front of her, whatever that means."

He gave a throaty chuckle, and the sound did funny things to me. I shook it off, going back to thinking about stagnant ponds and dead goldfish.

However, I couldn't help coming to the slow realisation that Christian wasn't going where I thought he was with this conversation.

"I thought you were OK with the way I... _am_, but I think I've realised tonight that you're not, and I want to apologise if I've ever offended you. You should have said something right back at the beginning, when I first started relaxing around you Sy. I'm cringing thinking about some of the things I've said to you. Like how I would chat to you about the men I'd met over the weekend and the things I'd got up to. I think I took your silence and polite responses as acceptance, approval almost."

He paused before continuing.

"I'll be totally honest - I forget about your faith and beliefs sometimes, just because I feel so comfortable in your company. But the way you act around me-"

My heart stopped again as Christian paused and looked me square in the eyes. I wondered what he was about to say.

"...you're uncomfortable when I touch you. You're uncomfortable with me. I saw it clearly tonight and it all fell into place", he persisted.

"I can't believe I didn't realise sooner. But I totally get it, I swear. Syed, you're a good friend of mine and I don't want to lose that over something that can be fixed. I can tone down my behaviour around you if you want me to; all you ever had to do was say. I can tone down my conversations too. I'm used to doing that around your mum, it's not that difficult. I think the problem is that I've just relaxed myself a bit too much around you. It was impossible not to. But I don't want to upset you or offend you... you mean a lot to me."

He trailed off and looked up at me through his eyelashes. His words hadn't _quite_ sunk in yet - I was far too busy entertaining the wicked thoughts dancing through my head. They mainly involved me standing over him, pushing him down onto the bed and... **no**.

I took a deep breath. My head was absolutely swimming. There was far too much to take in.

"Right... so let me get this straight." I heard myself say slowly. "You're saying that you're worried because you think that I'm uncomfortable with your... ways." I looked at him and he nodded. He looked the most upset and vulnerable I'd ever seen him look.

"You think I'm uncomfortable with your... sexuality, and I want you to tone it down a bit?"

Christian nodded again.

"And that's all you came to say?"

He looked confused. "Well, yes, isn't it?"

_Christian still had no idea!_

Relief rolled over me in waves. I couldn't help myself - now that I knew he was somehow still oblivious; I plonked myself down beside him, almost uncomfortably close. It suddenly seemed a lot easier, more bearable, although I couldn't work out why. My heart still did a merry jig at the close proximity, but the feeling was... nice. I didn't loathe myself for it.

I must have been slightly giddy with the incredulity of it all.

"Christian. I think you've completely got the wrong end of the stick. You've never offended me, _ever_", I said completely truthfully, looking him straight-on. "I honestly don't know where you got this idea I'm uncomfortable around you."

He audibly exhaled. "I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that Sy, really", he said, a smile playing on his lips. He did sound happy. "I must have just blown things way out of proportion in my own head then."

I made a vague 'mmm' noise in agreement. I was so relieved that I was off the hook that I couldn't bring myself to say anything.

Christian stood up, and I was disappointed. I wanted to reach up and pull him down again, so he was back next to me. I was relishing sitting so close to him for the first time, feeling the warmth roll off his body, finally getting the chance to look so deeply into those gorgeous green eyes I'd only ever stolen glances at before.

Somehow I was managing to enjoy being near Christian without the ever-present terror of exposure; and the burning self-hatred in the core of my very being appeared to have vanished too. I was feeling slightly delirious after the events of the evening.

I stood up to see him out of my room.

"G'night Sy. Thanks for being so patient with silly old me." Christian said on his way towards the door.

"Hey, less of the old!" I teased. I couldn't believe I felt relaxed enough for playful banter - something we'd never really had before, thanks to my guardedness. "And less of the silly as well. You're far too hard on yourself sometimes. See you in the morning yeah?"

He turned to look at me, uncomfortably close again, all of a sudden, mere inches between us. Now that we were both stood, he looked down on me for the first time since he'd come to my door - right down into my eyes - and I felt all strange all over again. I was stricken with equal panic and lust; I had to clamp my hands down by my sides to stop myself throwing my arms around his neck.

It was written all over my face, I knew it was. The neon sign was out and proud, flashing madly above my head. Weirdly, it was as if I didn't care. The relief that came along with giving up the façadefelt incredible. Seven months of constant caution had worn me out.

He hesitated for a long moment as he stared into my eyes, which were no doubt filled with desire. The air between us was thick with tension, and my heart was pounding. I could hear it, and something told me Christian could too. He leant towards me infinitesimally and my breath caught in my throat. I should have been moving away, why wasn't I? I was frozen; rigid.

I saw his eyelids flutter closed for a brief moment, and he took a step backwards, shattering the tension. I heard him take a deep breath.

"Yeah. See you in the morning."

With that, he turned and opened the door to walk down the hall to his own room, not looking back.

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><p><strong>AN: I know I said this story was going to be from Syed's POV, but I'm currently in the process of writing a chapter from Christian's POV. It offers an insight as to where _his_ head is regarding Syed and his behaviour, which we haven't had yet. It also contains a re-write of the second half of this chapter - the 'bedroom moment' - from his POV. **

**It'd be called something like 'Chapter 4.1' - it's too long to tack on to the end of this chapter, but I'm not sure if I'd class it as a chapter in its own right as it doesn't move the story on much further. **

**Would you like me to upload it, or are you happy filling in the blanks regarding Christian's feelings and thoughts for yourself? And if I did upload it, is there anything you'd like me to address in it? Please comment and let me know your thoughts, and I'll go with the majority! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I asked at the end of Chapter Four if you'd like to see something written from Christian's POV. Most people said an emphatic yes... so here it is!**

**A couple of you said no - if that was you, or if you don't to know Christian's POV for whatever reason (e.g. you're enjoying being kept in the dark, or you've already formulated an idea in your own head) then skip this chapter, I'm pretty confident you'll still be able to follow the story without reading it!**

**This chapter doesn't move the action on any further, but it gives you an insight into Christian's feelings, and it re-tells the second half of Chapter Four, but from Christian's POV. I've called it Chapter Five just for simplicity's sake. **

**It's set just after he's left the lounge to go to bed that evening, but before he goes to speak to Syed.  
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**Hope you enjoy! This proved to be the trickiest chapter yet, so your reviews are more appreciated then ever! Let me know what you thought of it please - is it what you were expecting?  
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**x  
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><p><strong>Christian's POV<strong>

I lay on my bed, lost in my own thoughts.

The events of the evening had been... upsetting, to put it mildly. I'd witnessed Syed physically recoil at my touch. As he looked at me on that sofa I'd detected horror in his eyes. And I'd uncovered something I wished I hadn't.

I knew now what he'd been hiding for all these months... _homophobia_. If that wasn't the case then it was revulsion at best.

A lot of things suddenly fell into place along with this realisation. He always kept a distance from me at the unit, he rarely looked me in the eyes, he was nothing more than polite when I chatted away about myself, and there were days when he'd hardly utter a word to me.

I just assumed he was shy, naturally reserved. I found it endearing, to say the least.

But apparently I was wrong. His behaviour was all down to the fact that... I disgusted him.

To my surprise I felt tears pricking at my eyes. I wasn't much of a crier, and I certainly wasn't the type to get so worked up over what others thought of me, but the hurt behind tonight's discovery was a crushing blow to me, for more reasons than one.

In May last year, I first laid eyes on Syed Masood and discovered for myself that love at first sight wasn't some unattainable fantasy. From the moment he'd walked into Masala Queen and introduced himself to me, I was hooked. I could recall everything about that first exchange like it happened yesterday. I'd felt something awaken inside of me that I'd never experienced in all my years of relationships and flings.

I spent a long time trying to deny the strength of my feelings, shaking it off as a silly crush, a foolish attraction for something I couldn't have. I tried convincing myself that I was just seeking the thrill of something unreachable, but a feeling this strong was impossible to ignore - I was in love.

And love hurt.

Of course, it was sod's law. I was Christian Clarke, the man with the divine ability to have just about any man on the planet, and who do I go and fall in love with? The straight Muslim boy._ Good one, Christian!_

I'd never been in love before, and I'd never sought to be either. I'd been perfectly happy with my lifestyle, and I never felt unfulfilled. I enjoyed the physical. I liked to get what I wanted, and I was used to getting it. Getting any_one_.

I'll quite openly admit that I was selfish, it suited me and it suited my partners. I'd been in a handful of relationships, none of them exclusive, and none of which I'd call _loving_.

Love was a powerful, life-altering emotion. My outlook had changed. Falling for Syed made me realise something was fundamentally missing from my life. I'd never felt so passionately about anyone the way I felt for him, not even members of my own family. I craved his presence, I drank his words, and thoughts of him filled my head on a daily basis.

I tried convincing myself that it wasn't necessarily _Syed _I was after, it was just a stable relationship with someone - _anyone_. It didn't work. I didn't just want any man, I wanted _him_. And I didn't just want one night of passion, I wanted a relationship, a lifetime, a life partner.

I couldn't quite believe how soppy I'd become, but it was true.

Usually, when I wanted someone so badly, I chased them until they were mine. I didn't particularly care whether they felt the same way, because - at the risk of sounding arrogant - I could seduce just about anyone.

I had no desire to do that with Syed, whether I thought I had the ability to or not. The love I had for him came along with a deep respect for his sexuality, his religious beliefs, and his morals. I didn't want to offend him or upset him.

Given the limited choices I had in my awkward situation, I decided the best thing to do was put my feelings to one side and keep him close as a friend, nothing more. It was daily torture trying to conceal my true feelings, but it was nothing like the torture of confessing - and permanently alienating him - would have been.

In the meantime I channelled the frustration over my unrequited feelings into frequent, meaningless flings, desperately seeking to dull my aching heart, searching for a connection with someone else. It never happened. I would stare into their eyes; give myself over to them, forcing myself to fall in love, to feel something, _anything_. It never worked. I woke up to an empty bed each morning, an empty heart.

I'd spent a lot of effort trying to move past my feelings, telling myself that there was no point, that he would never feel the same towards me. But every time I thought I was making progress, something would happen between us that would throw me right back.

There were times where our eyes met and – crazy as it seemed - I felt like I was looking at myself in a mirror. I swear the expression in those brown eyes matched my own - lust, despair, longing.

I would mentally shake it off, convinced I was deluding myself, that I was just a sad old queen living in a fantasyland, desperately searching for something that didn't _– couldn't -_ exist. Then a bit later down the line it would happen again, throwing me into confusion once more.

I've met men confused about their sexuality before, men in denial, married men looking for one-night-stands. Syed didn't strike me as a confused man, or one in denial. He spoke passionately about his religious beliefs, and talked fondly of past girlfriends. The signs just weren't there. He was politely respectful of my lifestyle, and asked the odd question, but didn't seem overly concerned or curious.

Clearly I _was_ just deluded – tonight's events had confirmed that.

Hearing he had a girlfriend on the horizon was also a huge punch in the gut. I knew how utterly stupid it was of me to feel that way, but I couldn't help myself.

I looked over at my suitcase in the corner of the room and pondered heading back to Walford tonight, sparing myself the misery, and him the awkwardness.

But weirdly, despite uncovering Syed's homophobia, the thought of losing my tentative friendship with him was making a part of me die inside. Cutting myself off from him now would be akin to cutting off oxygen or food – physically impossible. I still loved the man, and I needed him.

With that in mind, I decided to address the issue tonight while I still could, the sooner the better. There was no point sleeping on the whole sorry mess. I mustered up the courage to walk down the hallway towards his room.

As I stood in front of his door I felt my heart fluttering away in my chest. It was an odd, unfamiliar feeling. I wasn't used to being nervous, but here I was, absolutely terrified of being rebuffed, of Syed slamming the door in my face.

I gave the door an almost too-quiet knock. I was torn between hoping he'd heard it and hoping he hadn't.

He'd heard it. "Just a minute Mum!" he called.

I pondered shouting "It's Christian!" before deciding against it – he might have refused to answer the door. As I heard his footsteps approach, my heart pounded. I felt so anxious, it was unsettling.

He opened the door and I spotted his head duck down as he caught sight of me. _Great. _As if I needed any _more_ confirmation that I was the last person on earth he wanted to see!

I took a deep breath and mustered up every scrap of boldness within me.

"Can I come in for a sec?" I ventured, breaking the silence, bracing myself for a no.

To my surprise he nodded - somewhat reluctantly - and opened the door wider, allowing me to step in. I did so gratefully. I couldn't resist a cheeky jibe at his checked pyjamas, which seemed to lighten the mood slightly.

I perched myself on the edge of his bed, trying not to focus on the glaring fact I was in alone in a bedroom with Syed Masood. _Task in hand, Christian!_ I took a deep breath and launched into what I needed to say.

"Sy... I've been noticing something for a while now."

I paused. My eyes were firmly fixed on the floor, too petrified to focus on his reactions. I decided just to come out with it.

"Do I make you... uncomfortable?"

The question was met with a silence that lasted a couple of seconds too long to be considered comfortable. That could only mean he was trying to formulate a Syed-style polite response. That was the last thing I wanted - I'd had enough of _polite_ from him to last me a lifetime.

I ploughed on before he had a chance to speak, still not daring to look at him.

"Look, I know Zainab – sorry, your mother – has an issue with the way I talk and act sometimes. My sexuality makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't like me to be 'too gay' in front of her, whatever that means." I laughed humourlessly.

"I thought you were OK with the way I... _am_, but I think I've realised tonight that you're not, and I want to apologise if I've ever offended you. You should have said something right back at the start, when I first started relaxing around you Sy. I'm cringing thinking about some of the things I've said to you. Like how I would chat to you about the men I'd met over the weekend and the things I'd got up to. I think I took your silence and polite responses as acceptance, approval almost... I'll be totally honest. I forget about your faith and beliefs sometimes, just because I feel so comfortable in your company."

_What was I doing?_ I couldn't stop speaking. I was utterly terrified about giving Syed the opportunity to respond, the chance to confirm my worst fears. I decided to look up at him as I continued, feeling brave enough to gauge his reaction.

It was time to place my heart on my sleeve.

"The way you act around me ...you're uncomfortable when I touch you. You're uncomfortable with me. I saw it clearly tonight and it all fell into place. I can't believe I didn't realise sooner. But I totally get it, I swear. Syed, you're a good friend of mine and I don't want to lose that over something that can be fixed. I can tone down my behaviour around you if you want me to; all you had to do was say. I can tone down my conversations too. I'm used to doing that around your mum, it's not that difficult. I think the problem is that I've just relaxed myself a bit too much around you. It was impossible not to. But I don't want to upset you or offend you... you mean a lot to me."

_Ohmygod._ There. I'd said what I needed to, and probably too much. Time for me to shut up.

I heard him take a breath, and his eyes closed for a moment. There was another uncomfortable silence.

If he came out with a standard polite response after all that, I would kill him...

"Right... so let me get this straight. You're saying that you're worried because you think you make me uncomfortable with your... ways", Syed ventured.

He looked at me, but all I could do in response was nod. I'd already said too much. I was scared of opening my mouth and saying something I ended up _really _regretting.

"You think I'm uncomfortable with your... sexuality, and I want you to tone it down a bit?"

I nodded again.

"And that's all you came to say?"

There was a note of shock – _surprise? _- in his voice, that I couldn't quite comprehend.

"Well, yes, isn't it?"

An expression somewhere between a smirk and a grin crept on to his face, and suddenly he was sat beside me on the bed. Well, _that _was unexpected.

"Christian. I think you've completely got the wrong end of the stick. You've never offended me, ever", Syed said, looking straight into my eyes. I was transfixed by the proximity of him. _Wow, he was gorgeous._

"I honestly don't know where you got this idea that I'm uncomfortable around you."

I exhaled a breath I hadn't realised I was holding on to.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that Sy, really." And I couldn't hide it either. My own voice sounded positively gleeful to me, and I was bursting inside. _I'd got it all wrong! _

"I must have just blown things way out of proportion in my own head then."

Syed made an 'mmm' sound, presumably in agreement. I decided to quit whilst I was ahead and leave it there for the evening. I was already dangerously close to spilling my guts out – not a good idea!

As I forced myself to break our bodily contact and stand up, I heard him rise off the bed to join me.

"G'night Sy. Thanks for being so patient with silly old me." I said, heading toward the door.

"Hey, less of the old! And less of the silly as well. You're far too hard on yourself sometimes. See you in the morning, yeah?"

I turned to look at him, not realising how close he was behind me. There were mere inches separating us, which caught me off guard. I could practically _feel_ his breath on the exposed V of my chest. The temptation to sweep him up in a kiss was almost unbearable, and Syed didn't exactly look disgusted to be stood so near me.

In fact, as I looked down into his dark eyes, I swear I could see my feelings reflected, like I did all too often.

Before I realised what I was doing I caught myself leaning in, completely drowning in his eyes as I did so.

_No! What was I doing?_

I closed my eyes to break the connection before I lost all rational thought, and turned to the door again, my head still in a blur.

"Yeah. See you in the morning", I managed to utter as I walked out of the room, as quickly as I could without making it obvious. I didn't dare look back.

That was close.


End file.
